


Maddie's Apocalypse (Apocaficlet 2)

by LithiumDoll



Series: Apocaficlet [2]
Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Apocalypse, Critters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumDoll/pseuds/LithiumDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The flame dancing on the head of the match flickers as her hand trembles; light scatters into dark corners, is swallowed whole. Distantly, Michael's voice admonishes her not to waste matches, to be more careful, and, hey, while she's at it? Maybe think about what she's doing to her lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maddie's Apocalypse (Apocaficlet 2)

**Author's Note:**

> See first Apocaficlet for warning!

The flame dancing on the head of the match flickers as her hand trembles; light scatters into dark corners, is swallowed whole. Distantly, Michael's voice admonishes her not to waste matches, to be more careful, and, hey, while she’s at it? Maybe think about what she’s doing to her lungs. 

She takes a painfully perverse kind of pleasure in lighting her cigarette, breathing deep and smothering the light in smoke as she exhales.

In the darkness, they’re easier to hear as they pick, claw, slither their way around the house above. It’s only a matter of time before they find the door to the basement and she never did get around to reinforcing it like she promised Sam she would, just before he -- left.

She shifts where she stands, tucks an arm around her waist and settles her weight on one hip; counts time.

Maybe it's just as well they've found her now. Her last, crumpled packet of Morleys is nearly empty and she tells herself anyway,  _anyway_  she doesn't want to live in a world where she can't get a smoke. Just doesn't. She's too old to start giving things up.

They’re getting closer. Homing in on her heartbeat, that's what the news said, right before it started telling everyone how it would all be fine. She'd stopped watching. Somewhere between Frank dying and Michael -- Michael going to find Nate -- she'd lost all tolerance for being lied to.

She looks at the glowing tip of her cigarette; it’s been three minutes maybe. Long enough for most of them to be at the door by now.

The smoke curls in and out of the arc of light around it. She coughs and looks up the basement stairs. "You know," she says to the scrabbling, "you do pick up things from your kids.”

She waves a hand airily. “Oh, it's meant to be the other way around, but sometimes it's really best if they don't learn anything from you at all. Nate taught me how to take risks and Michael ..." She huffs a laugh. "Mostly Michael taught me patience.”

Her fingers tighten around the box in her other hand, tucked at her side; it would be easy to do this now, maybe it would even be quick, and she’s pretty sure she’d only be following where everyone else has already gone.

Trouble is, maybe she’s too old to give up anything at all. 

She drops her cigarette and treads it out. “And Fiona,” she says crisply as she straightens, “taught me how to wire a building for a controlled explosion. Isn’t that nice?”

She steps back into the alcove that will protect her, smirks and presses the button on the remote.

**Author's Note:**

> For: Serrico


End file.
